


In Case of Emergency, Contact

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is stranded. Zach has unlimited texts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Case of Emergency, Contact

On Day One, Zach gets a text.  
  
 _I’m going to kill my agent. Slowly. With a snow shovel._  
  
He’s typing out a row of question marks when the next message interrupts him.  
  
 _Kill me. Seriously. Rig Noah & Harold up to a sled, drive out here, & kill me._  
  
He keeps the question marks and adds,  _Where are you?_  
  
 _Minneapolis_ , comes the response,  _Stranded by blizzard. Stuck in empty hotel._  
  
He runs a mental inventory.  _Books? Movies? Music? TV?_  
  
 _Luggage still in New York. Satellite is out. Found a PBS documentary about wolves._  
  
Zach whistles.  _Hang in there, buddy._  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Day Two dawns with another text, written from another time zone.  
  
 _All the books in the shop have heaving bodices on the covers._  
  
He blinks at it, then reaches for his bedside and starts sending  _The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time_  160 characters at a time. He gets as far as the sad face before Chris asks him to stop.  
  
 _A dead dog? I was kidding when I told you to kill me. Fuck it. I’m breaking into the bar._  
  
He starts sending him Jack Kerouac instead.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On Day Three, Chris has a hangover. The beeping of his cell phone is like a jackhammer and the woman in the shop won’t sell him more than two individually wrapped Tylenols at a time.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On Day Four, Chris’ sense of humor is failing.  
  
 _The staff are abandoning ship. The shop lady found the PA system. She likes Streisand._  
  
This time Zach calls him, with Girl Talk playing in the background. “Deep breath, buddy.”  
  
“I’m trying.”  
  
“You sound muffled.”  
  
“That’s because I’m lying under a mattress.”  
  
That sounds ominous. “Can you go outside? Get some sunlight?”  
  
“I left my snow shoes in my other wallet.”  
  
“Does the hotel have a sauna or something?”  
  
“Everything’s closing down. It’s me, a maid who’s getting skimpy with the towels, the shop lady who’s sticking around to make sure I don’t steal anything, and the mysterious kitchen crew.”  
  
“Are you eating okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess. Living off room service. The secret ingredient is guilt. I think everyone would get to go home if I weren’t here. Pretty sure they stopped using salt.”  
  
Zach couldn’t think of anything to say that would cheer him up. “I miss you.” Shit.  
  
On the other end of the line, Chris sucks in a deep breath. “Damn it, Zach.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On Day Five, signs of life.  
  
 _They’re plowing the parking lot!_  
  
 _Do you have the number for the airport? Is anything flying out?_  
  
There’s a long pause.  
  
 _Nothing flying out. Considering renting a car._  
  
Zach checks the weather forecast, sees more snow on the way.  _Stay put. Ask for more blankets._  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Day Six comes and Chris can’t get a signal out. Zach texts him every hour in hopes that something gets through.  
  
 _I miss you. I know I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry._  
  
I’m worried and distracted.  
  
Noah chewed up my Kerouac. If I could neuter him again, I would.  
  
Blue skies and my head is full of snow. Call me as soon as it clears.  
  
I hope you’re not cold. Does the shop sell sweaters?  
  
Is there laundry service? I bet you stink.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Day Seven and finally, a response.  
  
 _Still alive. I don’t stink, asshole. Power’s out, conserving cell battery in case of emergency. Cold and dark._  
  
Zach spends the rest of the day pacing while Noah trails after him, whining softly.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Day Eight. Nothing. Zach considers renting a Hummer.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On Day Nine the plows return.  
  
“I can see pavement!”  
  
“Oh my god!”  
  
“The power came back. Jesus Christ. I almost froze. I thought of getting in the bathtub, but I was afraid I’d get pneumonia before I dried off.”  
  
Zach is so worried it’s making his muscles ache. “What did you do?”  
  
“The maid came by and said to come down to the kitchen, they had all the stoves on. Thank god we still had gas.”  
  
“This sounds like a movie. Is the maid hot?”  
  
“Not a looker among ‘em.”  
  
Privately, Zach is relieved.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Day Ten. Nothing again, inexplicably. Zach checks the weather and can’t see anything that would explain the silence. His calls go straight to voicemail. His texts go out, but he receives no reply.   
  
The last ten all say the same thing.  _I love you._  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The morning of Day Eleven, Zach’s bed is too warm. He can’t remember going to sleep the night before.  
  
He lunges for his phone as soon as mind clears, but a heavy weight around his middle draws him up short.  
  
This has to be a dream.  
  
“Chris?”  
  
The duvet from the guest room is spread out on top of his own. Chris doesn’t open his eyes before pulling him closer, wrapping around him completely. He manages to snatch up his phone before he’s burrowing into Chris’ chest.  
  
He squints, one-eyed, at the solitary message.  _I love you, too._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by surviving Snowmageddon 2010. Thank you for reading! Please comment if you have a second?


End file.
